the ways to return
by wonder
Summary: Christmas morning for Izzie and Alex. A companion piece to On your way to selfdestruction. Post Season 3 Finale, but without any references to Season 4.


**The way to return (you and me)**

At 4 a.m. it's barely Christmas morning. But here you are at the hospital, having just completed a grueling Christmas Eve shift.

The door to the locker room swings open and Alex strides in. He opens his locker and greets you, but you don't reply. Instead you just sit there on the bench, with your jacket halfway on.

For a moment Alex studies you carefully, not saying a word. Then he quickly changes into clean clothes, and helps you tug your jacket on all the way. He moves towards the door, waiting for you.

"C'mon Izz; let's go home."

&&&&&&&&&&&

When you slip into the taxi, you immediately rest your head against the seat and close your eyes. It was a long Christmas Eve, and you dealt with more than your share of accidents and emergencies. And it makes you want to cry because of all the nights of the year, Christmas Eve should be the one where everyone is safe and happy and _alive_.

But disasters do indeed strike, and people live and people die.

Life was so much more bearable when you believed in Santa Claus.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you know, Alex is shaking you gently by the shoulder.

Struggling to open your eyes, you somehow manage to stumble out of cab. You barely pay attention as Alex pays the taxi driver, and then allow him to guide you into the house.

You're mostly out of your sleepy reverie by the time Alex gets you to the sofa. You watch silently as he drapes a throw blanket around you, and your eyes follow him when he walks to the kitchen.

And maybe it's because you're exhausted or maybe it's some sort of Christmas miracle, because suddenly you just _love him. _And it's frightening and exciting because it's _love_ and it's _there_ and it's _real_.

But then you blink and the feeling fades as quickly as it appeared.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Alex returns with mugs of hot chocolate in both hands. He hands one to you carefully before sitting down. You thank him quietly and stare down into the hot brown liquid. You can't help but smile when you see traces of powder, evidence of the instant cocoa mix he must have used. Normally, you would have teased him for his crude bachelor ways, and he would counter that not everyone could be a Martha Stewart.

But it's different now (_you're _different now), and you don't feel like jokes or laughter.

So you sip your cocoa dutifully, and hold tightly to the hot mug until your fingers hurt.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Reds and yellows are beginning to break through the darkened sky.

"Merry Christmas, Izzie," Alex says abruptly.

"What?" you ask, startled by his sudden interruption.

He looks at you gravely and points out the window, "My present to you. The sunrise."

There is a beat.

Then a wide grin crosses his face.

You swat him lightly on the arm, knowing he probably stole the line from a movie or something. But he just laughs and pulls you towards him, settling back into the couch to watch the morning come.

You lean against him comfortably and convince yourself that this is okay; _it's only for Christmas_.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Christmas morning sunrise turns into Christmas morning groping.

You're not that surprised - not really, not anymore. This always seems to happen with the two of you. Except that alcohol is usually involved and conversation revolves around George and Denny and Ava and regret.

You always talk about regret.

But this morning there was no alcohol and no one ever mentioned past lovers.

Instead his hands are under your shirt, and you're reaching for his pants, and his lips are there and there and _there._

You wonder if you should stop this from going further. There are at least four good reasons why you should stop, and you're about to share them with Alex when his movements shift.

His fingers travel south and _find you, _and those four good reasons mean nothing anymore.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

He knows your body and you respond eagerly to his.

This is how it is.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

It's Christmas and you have always been good at make-believe.

So you let yourself forget the tragedies you saw at the hospital last night. They never happened, you were never there.

You let yourself pretend that there was never a Denny, or a George, or an Ava. There is only Izzie, there is only Alex, and they are meant to be together.

You let yourself imagine that you love him and he loves you. And you let yourself believe that love is enough, _that love is always enough_.

(If you are falling_, you do it gladly.)_

&&&&&& the end


End file.
